Don Diablo
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: Lambo sighed, smiling softly… sadly.  He folded his hands beneath his chin and balanced his elbows on the silk top of the round table he sat at… alone.  1827 6996 8059 8733 KawahiraXI-Pin RL


It was the most adorable thing in the world to watch Vongola in his blinding white tux be swept across the ballroom floor in the arms of his usually aloof and distant cloud guardian – dressed in a black tux with a black vest beneath: White and black, just like good and evil. There was a small blush to Vongola's cheeks and his caramel eyes were focused without blinking on Hibari, who in turn had his silver-blue eyes trained on him. His hands were on Vongola's hips, leading him flawlessly over the polished ceramic tiles.

Lambo sighed, smiling softly… sadly. He folded his hands beneath his chin and balanced his elbows on the silk top of the round table he sat at… alone.

Off somewhere to his left, he could hear Gokudera growling for Yamamoto to _stop groping him_! Yamamoto's laughter followed Gokudera's indignant screech and then silence.

Lambo looked over and both seemed content – or as close to content as anyone was ever going to get Gokudera without all but shoving Vongola in his lap. Yamamoto had a splitting grin on his face and his jaw nestled into Gokudera's silver locks; his hands wandered up and down Gokudera's back, stroking him carefully. Gokudera had his head resting on Yamamoto's chest, cheeks flushed and expression mostly relaxed if not a little pouty. He had his arms wrapped around Yamamoto's shoulders; their feet shifted only lazily, hardly dancing at all as much as swaying back and forth.

Lambo folded his arms on the tabletop and let his head nest in them. A flash of sparkling red made him look over.

Hana wore a floor-length red dress with spaghetti straps. Ryohei looked on the verge of combusting, his smile looking painful enough to break his jaw. The only thing that kept him from trying to fly off his joy-high was Hana's hands on his biceps; from where Lambo sat, it looked as if she were trying to tell him how to dance – directions he direly needed or else Hana's feet would need to be amputated by the night's end.

Lambo tried to hide his eyes into the barricade of his arms.

He heard a disastrous snicker that could only belong to one being –

Mukuro was smiling softly down to Chrome who stared with awe up at him. He wore his usual leather and she wore a flow-y, lilac gown that fell to her knees. She looked far too innocent to be near someone such as Mukuro, but there she was not the least frightened but possibly the (second) happiest person in the world.

He squeezed his eyes shut and dove back into the chamber of his arms. Everyone was having the time of their life; even Hibari. And yet he was here… Yes, here.

Laughter reminded him that Haru and Kyoko were playfully dancing together; by now, they had most likely dragged I-Pin from Kawahira – her boyfriend. Lambo heard a downcast moan and knew that Fuuta had been dragged into the growing group as well.

A tear curved around his cheek and dripped onto the white tablecloth, creating a small grayish dot before it disappeared.

Everyone was having the time of their lives… except for him.

'_He promised'_ He thought bitterly to himself, trying to relax his frame so anyone who would bother to look over would think he was sleeping. _'He promised, but he isn't here… I don't know why I expected him to be.' _

A Spanish love song began to play; _Don Diablo _by Miguel Bo śe. The band Vongola had hired played it as if the singer were Migeul himself.

"You wouldn't mind giving me this dance, would you, cow?"

With a gasp, Lambo spun out of his depression and into shock; his skull nearly hit the chin of the man standing behind him, just narrowly missing.

Emerald green meet obsidian.

"… Reborn…" Lambo offered a watery smile, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Reborn." He states more than whispered this time. He took a deep breath but his nerves continued to jump. "You came." He tried to smile. "I thought you weren't going to make it." He attempted to pull off nonchalance, as if it wouldn't have mattered whether he had come or not. His damp eyes and quivering lips give him away – his radiating happiness gave him away.

Reborn smirked. "So little faith in me?" He held out a hand, palm up. "I said I would come, didn't I?"

Lambo slipped his hand into Reborns'; marveled at how they seemed to fit together so well. Reborn's long callous fingers closed around his small hand.

"Ah." He agreed at last once Reborn began to tug him free of his seat and pull him into the crowd, surrounding them with other dancers; oddly enough, even as they met the densest area, no one ever touched them.

A 'Reborn' influence, no doubt.

"How was I to know that you might actually come at the whim of a being lower than your own status?" Lambo teased, watching as Reborn's free hand curved around his hip and pulled him flush to the hitman.

_Don Diablo_ reached its seventh verse.

Unbelievably, a second voice joined the singing – one much closer to Lambo and not loud enough for anyone other than himself to hear.

Him and the man singing, that was.

Reborn had his mouth to Lambo's ear, his deep, sinfully smooth voice breathing _Don Diablo_ into Lambo's very heart and soul.

He was lead fluently across the ballroom floor, their dancing only on par with that of Hibari's and Vongola's. Lambo balanced his hands on Reborn's shoulders and Reborn held one arm around his waist and the other on his hip.

Lambo stopped listening to the band and focused entirely on Reborn. Miguel Bośe couldn't have sung it better.

"You haven't answered my question…" He whispers, eyes at half mast as Reborn's voice caught him up and jumbled his thoughts; he had to fight to regain any will. "Why did you come?" He looked up into Reborn's half-annoyed half-amused eyes.

The hitman stopped singing for one small moment and closed his lips over Lambo's; the taste of clove and coffee wafted from Reborn's mouth to Lambo's and from Lambo's mouth to Reborn's was the addicting mixture of grape wine and mint.

"For my little bovine, of course." Reborn purred once their lips separated. "Do I need to give you any other reason?"

Lambo gave it a moment of consideration; he would like one, actually – one that was more specific than one so vague, one that sounded kind of like a lie – but he didn't ask for it. Because Reborn didn't actually seem to be lying.

Anywhere else in the world except with him: that was where Reborn could be. But he wasn't there, was he? He wasn't with some gorgeous blonde with big boobs off in America or wooing any ethereal redheads off in Europe or anywhere else with any other being.

Reborn had chosen to spend his night with Lambo doing nothing more than dancing.

He smiled and kissed the hitman again before letting his head fall against his solid chest, listening to the reassuring thrum there behind Reborn's ribs. Reborn's chin rubbed his sable black curls and he heard _Don Diablo_ pass the hitman's lips once more.

_Don Diablo_ was officially the greatest song in the world.


End file.
